elio
I'm residing in a brighter one. A zone is where we see the world, and that attitude then reflects for the how the world sees us. It's hard to imagine how much happier I am now, compared to all those months alone this winter. I've grown so expansively out of the sad and tiny person I was.
under the ocean
This is a good place I de-stress. For awhile, the word would always plug some sort of insight into my current situations, kind of like Tarot. After that point, it because no different than a diary, just broken into vague snippets. I cannot help but more an issue of my life into each word, and then allow my fingers to explode on it for minute
slightest irritation growing
whilst I fondle around
like a moron
hands begininning to bleed
slightest frustration growing
belittled
looking for a needle
at this point, I'm gonna poke you in the eye
With myself. On the bed for only an hour, but if nobody was around to whisper comfort in my ear, than didn't I need to be that person for myself? And so I sat in the shadows and colored lights, wriggled around with aches, and my mind left the house.
Ah, yes. When to go, where to go, how long to stay, which path to take. Where to set boundaries. How to follow those boundaries. How can I see what I want with a blindfold on?
The brightest days are on the horizon.
In the meanwhile, I need some new hobbies and infatuations.
Do we actively think about going on such things when they happen? Do we say to ourselves, "I'm going on a quest! Gotta bring back the boon."
No.
We decide to start a diet, or finally leave our boyfriend. We make life changes that'll take us down a whole new path.
Psychic again. Or maybe that's just a trick of the human mind.
I regret nothing. Maybe it's not foofy. Not something that should be seen outside of a journal. But it was tucked away for a reason. The thoughts were real. Raw. They were never garnished for eyes who would judge them.
Oh, ouch. You really knew what to do say this time, eh?
I don't know much about romance. Never experienced it much. Yeah, there was a time. It was short, I was too dazzled to notice it in any other way than being hopelessly dazzled. After that it was just so...forced. Draining. I forgot who I was. I'm free now. This is for the better.
And of course it hurts. It's always going to hurt to inject that I put so much energy into a mix that was simply doomed to fall stale. Now when I look back on our time together, I see my tightly-woven facade looking grim on a face that was weary of trying, too entranced to see. I took every neutral reaction as a challenge to try harder. I was harder on myself, never acknowledging the reason for the damage I was doing. The heartaches, the stomach aches, the earthquakes tearing holes into my brain, allowing the anxiety, the chemical of destruction, to leak in to my perceptions.
I needed approval from a boy who was too good to ever lie and dellude me further.
I cleaned and dressed up just to go to bed but
he's yet to make any promises.
But, I'm free now.
They're not very good for tying knots in thread, or weaving hemp. But that's okay. My letters are more delicate and small than other letters. They're like sprinkles. Crystal.
I make messes. I spill.
Golden. And lions. And noise. Eyes. Waiting for blood, thirsty fists.
At what point did I stop fighting, did I start realizing myself in the margin, the survivor? When did I accept myself as the victim, and not the victor? Because as soon as I gave into the notion, the rest of the world did too.
You have all the weapons you need, girl.
Now stop yer bitchin' and fight.
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writing since 2011 · 56 entries · 56 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Elio showed up.
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the words Elio reaches for
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